Sleeping Beauty
by EmmaoftheValley
Summary: "Those eyes," she murmured. "My princess?" asked the king quietly, alarmed. "I know you," she said clearly, her voice ringing out like a bird. Peeta dared not breathe. "I walked with you once... upon a dream."
1. Chapter 1

The pines popped in the crackling fire, illuminating the faces of six young men, all wrapped up in animated conversation. The roar of the fire was lost to the voices, and they scarcely noticed as it dissolved to a dull glow.

"All right, all right," hushed a large, dark skinned boy. "Everybody quiet down."

It was like a switch had been flipped. All faces turned toward the boy in rapt anticipation. Thresh was a raconteur. He spoke softly, but with feeling. Everyone had to lean close to hear, but that only heightened the experience. His words caressed around the other boys, giving the night an eerie, mystical feel. Now, all that could be heard was the soft susurrus the fire was emitting, along with Thresh's low, baritone voice accompanying the fire ash into the sky.

"_Nearly two decades ago, was born a beautiful babe to the royal family. The King and Queen were overjoyed, for not only was she the most exquisite site, but it had been said that the royals could never have a child. _

_At the child's christening, a terrible witch, jealous that this baby would be so powerful, disguised herself as a distinguished guest. She asked to hold the girl, and immediately cursed the child to a fate of living death. 'Soon enough, you will prick your finger on a spindle and so be condemned to a fate of perpetual sleep.' Then, the witch fled. _

_The King and Queen, the entire kingdom, were beside themselves with worry and fear, for never was there more beloved a princess than Lady Katniss of Panem. _

_Every spindle in the kingdom was destroyed, and beyond any law was the law banning them from Panem. The child lived happily, but all in vain, for when she was a mere five years in age, she stumbled upon a hidden passage-way in the castle. She followed the hallway and came across a strange, golden object. This object was a spindle. Having never seen such an object before, the curious princess reached out to touch it. Her finger was pricked, and before she had time to react, she grew so tired she could not even make it to her bed chambers before she was fast asleep. _

_The Queen herself found the hidden door ajar, and, having never seen this door, decided to follow it out of curiosity. She saw the spindle before she saw the sleeping child, but immediately knew what had happened. Completely forlorn, she draped herself over the sleeping girl, begging her to wake up. Physicians were called, healers were summoned, priests from around the world came to try and awake the child, but to no avail. _

_They pleaded with the evil witch to wake their child, but she couldn't even if she had desired so. The Queen, driven mad with hopelessness, took her own life. The King, once a family of three and now all alone in the world, fell at the witch's feet and again pleaded, 'Was there no way to lift the curse?' The witch said there was only one way. 'Love,' she said. 'If a man of pure heart was to fall in love with her, and was to kiss her, that would bring her back to life.' The King was confused. 'She is just a child.' The witch answered, 'She will grow just as she would have, in body and mind, and soon enough she will be of age.' The King asked, 'But how will a man fall in love with her, truly fall in love with her, if he cannot meet her?' The witch replied, 'Precisely.' After that day the witch was never seen again, and the princess still lies in the castle, her other-worldly beauty pure, innocent, un-touched."_

**I don't intend for this story to be long, five to ten chapters I'm judging. I will post one more chapter this week, but I am going to Nicaragua on a mission trip for three weeks directly after, so the rest will be up after that! Chapters will vary in length by quite large margins. Thank you for reading, reviews are always welcome!**

**EmmaoftheValley**


	2. Chapter 2

**12 Years Prior**

"It is tolerable," King Everdeen commented, "But can it not be made _exquisite_?" It was the eve of Lady Katniss's fifth birthday, and the entire Capitol was in preparation.

"Of course, your highness, I will add anything you'd like to the cake," assented Mr. Mellark of the Seam, who had received the greatest honor a week prior when he was asked to craft a cake for the beloved princess.

"My King, do not be of haste. Shall we not ask the princess her thoughts?" reprimanded the queen.

"Katniss, my darling, what say you?" the king asked, turning to his daughter on his left, whom could not be content in sitting still for so long as she was being made. Her eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing glanced in the direction of the cake, but instead of resting there, continued on and landed themselves on a little dove, perched precariously on a window sill. She commented in a kind voice, "It is lovely, Father."

Mr. Mellark's shoulders sagged in relief, though no one noticed but his sons, standing behind him, off to the side. Or, two of his sons, that is. His youngest only had eyes for the princess, with her hair so delicately braided and her hypnotizing grey eyes.

"Come, Lady Katniss," cooed one of the princess's caretakers. "It's time for your reading lesson."

As the princess stood, every head in the throne room bowed, and after giving her proper farewell curtsy, she glided out of the room, caretaker in tow.

The king himself accompanied Mr. Mellark and his sons into the kitchens, giving specific directions on what was to be done to the cake. It had been nearly half an hour when the caretaker from before came running into the room. "The princess is not at her lesson!" she bellowed. The entire castle was in uproar instantly. King Everdeen tried to comfort himself in the fact that all the spindles in the kingdom were destroyed, yet he still demanded every hand in the palace search for the little girl.

Mr. Mellark was at a loss for what to do, and was about to take up the search as well, when his eldest son, Phyll, leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Father," said Phyll. "Where is Peeta?"

The Mellarks immediately split up and commenced their own, three-person search for the youngest brother. Phyll went outside to search, and saw Peeta across the grounds in the garden, though he wasn't alone.

It was like a tale out of a story book, two little cherubs sitting in a bed of purple and white flowers. A soft, melodic tune danced over the plants to Phyll's ears, and he quickly realized it was the little girl, singing an impossibly mesmerizing song.

_Here it's safe, here it's warm, here the daisies guard you from every harm… _

The princess's back was to Peeta, and he was weaving the little flowers into her hair carefully. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back, enjoying the way his fingers felt on her scalp. She was clothed all in white, just as she had been in the throne room, though she hadn't seemed so much like an angel then. The little blonde boy's chubby cheeks were tinged pink, and even from so far away as Phyll, it was easy to tell he was struggling to focus on his task as he listened to Katniss.

When the song was over, and Peeta had finished with the flowers, Katniss turned to him. To Phyll, who had been planted to the ground, scarcely able to drag his eyes away from the fairytale-like scene, it looked as if the princess was telling Peeta something of utmost importance, but she was interrupted.

"I've found her!" screeched the same caretaker who had lost her originally.

Phyll was immediately pulled from his stupor, and made his way quickly to the scene. "Filth, get away from the princess!" the shrill voice yelled to Peeta, ripping Katniss away from the bewildered little boy. "Taking her away from her lessons, not telling a soul. You, you sneaky little boy, should be ashamed," scolded Madame Effie as she fussed with Princess Katniss's hair, shaking the pretty petals out. Katniss looked like she would cry, but held back her tears gracefully. Just as Phyll arrived, the King, along with several members of his retinue, came running out.

"Oh, thank heavens," he breathed, pulling the princess into his arms. "Are you all right, my darling?"

"I'm fine, Father," she said, her voice shaky, confused as to why so many people were making a fuss.

Phyll arrived then, his father and younger brother Rye in tow. "Mr. Mellark," addressed the King curtly. "The cake is sufficient, and you and your company may begin your journey home." The words were a suggestion, but his tone imposed a command. Mr. Mellark nodded patiently, and took his baby boy into his arms, cooing into his ear how worried he'd been. Peeta was upset, inconsolable, but bravely held back his tears.

Just as the King and princess, along with their party, were making their way inside, Katniss turned in her father's arms, and called, in a voice suggesting regret, "Goodbye, Peeta Mellark, it was lovely to meet you!" Madame Effie shushed her, and her father looked at her in confusion. The boy the sentiments were addressed to hid his face in his father's shoulder, blushing something furious.

A few months later, when news came to the small village known as the Seam that the princess had fallen under her curse, the little boy's tears fell.

**I know I said I'd only put one more chapter up before I leave, but I may be able to squeeze another one in soon. Also, fair warning, this story has a lot of twists the original does not, and will be very different for the most part. Thanks for reading, and please review so I know what you're thinking! The story is moving slowly, but will quicken soon, I just need the back story first. **

**EmmaoftheValley**


	3. Chapter 3

**Present Day**

Peeta was startled awake by the thump of his carriage wheel over a rock. "Alright, Peeta?" calls his father from the reins of their horse. "I've been better, I suppose, Father," he returns, only mildly bitter. The journey to the Capitol of the kingdom Panem was nearly five days long. From the tiny village of the Seam they traveled, mostly through dangerous wilderness and unsmoothed pathway. Their lone horse was tired and their spirits lacking.

"You can see the castle in the distance, Peeta, we're close," his father assures. This did nothing to appease Peeta, however, for the castle was overwhelming in stature and forbearing in appearance, and the father and son had been able to see at least the highest point of the castle for a day's time now. Not only this, but Peeta was also constantly reminded of the young lady, alive but dead, in the very same tower staring down at them now. Though it had been over twelve years since the princess befell her curse, the wound was still raw upon the kingdom. The land had never been the same since Lady Katniss had pricked her finger, as if all the life was drained from it. The king was lacking in his duties, and spent a large part of his time locked away in his own quarters. How the country still functions at all is a miracle.

Peeta was once again slammed against the side of their coach, and this time, decided he had had enough. "Father, why don't you get some rest? I'll take the reins," he recommends, climbing out the window of the carriage to sit beside his father.

"Not necessary," his father dismisses. "Look, we're entering the outskirts now."

Peeta is relieved, more than anything; another day on this carriage and he was sure he'd go mad. The two drive into the kingdom at a good pace, and stop at an inn to make sure there is room there for the night. They leave their horse to be watered and taken care of and make to go to the market. Peeta's father is a baker, and every few years they make a trip to the Capitol for supplies and new equipment. They only make the journey when it's completely necessary. This was, however, the first time Peeta had been to the Capitol since he was a very little boy.

"I'm going to see about materials I'll need to replace the oven, Peet, you go off that way," his father explained, pointing in a general direction of the vast market they were in. "We don't need flour or anything like that, we can get that at home. Cocoa powder, sugar, you know what we generally need, don't you?"

Peeta nodded his assent. He simply wanted to get everything done. He was weary from travel, and though he'd only been here an hour or so, he already felt very unsettled. He walked purposefully in the direction his father had pointed. He went deeper and deeper into the market, until he finally had to admit himself lost.

Surrounding him were booths and booths of trinkets, jewelry, rugs, all things no one really needed, yet it couldn't help but draw the eye. Peeta could also sense this was a poorer area of the market. As he walked past all of the colorful items he noticed the men with metal replacing their teeth, the women with swollen bellies that would rub their stomachs as he walked by. He grew more and more uneasy at all the staring faces, and just as he could see from a distance the items he was there for, a lady's booth drew him in. They were tapestries, stitched by hand, that much was sure. It was not the tapestries as a whole, however, that brought him there; it was one specific. A young lady's face, pale, with red lips and untamed dark hair framing her features. So familiar a face, yet he could not place it. Perhaps if he could see her eyes, but they were closed, as though asleep. This made his heart ache, he knew not what for. He was startled from his musings by an old lady picking up a tune. She was, perhaps, the owner of the shop, though as she sat knitting in a rocker, Peeta could not be sure.

"_Sleeping Beauty, fair_

_Night of onyx in your hair_

_Lips that shame the red, red rose_

_Dreaming of true love in slumber repose_

_One day he will come_

_Riding out of the dawn_

_And you'll awaken to love's first kiss_

_Till then, Sleeping Beauty, sleep on"_

"Sleeping Beauty… you refer to the princess, yes?" asked Peeta.

"To be sure, young man," she affirmed.

"And this is her, you have seen her?" he questioned.

"Seen her, no, not many have. Princes come, and are admitted to the highest room of the castle, where she slumbers, to perhaps be her true love, but all in vain, to be sure, to be sure," she prattled.

"So then this is not her?" he asked, directing her towards the tapestry.

"Oh, to be sure, that is of course Sleeping Beauty," she admonished. "It was done by assumptions, by guess work."

"It is very good," he mused. "I recognized her, though I have not seen her since I was a child."

The old lady nodded, a small smile on her face. "Good luck, young man," she murmured quietly, and Peeta walked away from her thinking, decidedly, she was a bit of a loon.

Peeta purchased all the supplies needed and met his father back at the inn they'd be staying at for the night. They had a quiet meal and retired to bed.

He did not sleep for long. Almost as if he was dragged against his will, he found himself stumbling, a shadow in the night, towards the castle. He could barely make out its silhouette in the light of the moon. He was dressed in the nicest outfit to his name, his outfit for the morning. (He and his father would be going to church in the morning, and with all the fashions of the Capitol, Peeta would stick out like a sore thumb if he wore anything less than his best.) He wasn't entirely sure why he decided to wear it when no one would see it… in fact, he wasn't even entirely sure what he was doing.

There were guards at the front doors, but this would not do, so he crept, with aid from the darkness, through a window on the right side of the castle that lead into the Great Hall. Though it was night, Peeta could still tell that the castle had gone into decay from the years the princess walked the halls. There were no bright colors, nothing happy about the Great Hall, and Peeta did not stay long to admire.

He made his way up stories and stories of the castle. Peeta kept walking up the stairs until, at last, they ran out, and there was simply a wooden door left. There was a guard outside the door, but he was asleep. Peeta wanted one glimpse, just a glimpse of the girl he had been enamored with his entire life.

Peeta took a deep breath, and stepped quietly inside the room. It was like a scene out of a painting. The room was silent, a dove perched on the window sill. It was dawn, and birds greeted Peeta's ears like an aubade. Light was just starting to fall into the room. Unlike the rest of the castle, this room was full of color and life. The windows were large and ornate, and on a midsummer's day, Peeta was sure the room was golden with light.

Peeta's face was hot, and he took another step into the room. A large, ornate bed was in the middle. The sheets were snow white, and purple, gossamer curtains shielded the princess from Peeta's view. He took careful, measured steps toward the bed, his head pounding in his skull. When he was mere centimeters from it, his eyes glanced around the room, and, stealing himself, he pulled back the curtains.

A bird greeted him, a bird in human form. Peeta dared not make a noise, for fear of breaking the girl before him. She looked so delicate. She was clothed all in silk white, her dress billowing out and onto the floor, it was so elaborate. Her dark curls were about her face in complete disarray, but it suited her immensely, Peeta thought. She had almost an ethereal glow about her, and Peeta would have thought her dead, had it not been for her rosy cheeks and the steady rise and fall of her bosom.

Though the most exquisite site he had ever seen, Peeta looked upon her with solemn eyes. Peeta had assumed seeing her would be enough, but he wanted to _know _her. He wanted to spend the rest of his days listening to her. He wanted to pass his mornings in her words and his nights in her songs. He longed for his hands to be tangled in her hair, for his fingers to trace her smile. He wanted to wrap her up in himself and live life as one being.

And so, heart hammering, breathing erratic, Peeta leaned down before he could convince himself otherwise. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and placed a soft, gentle kiss to her heart shaped lips.

Everything was silence, and he waited with bated breath. For one moment he allowed himself to hope, but the moment passed. Then, another. Then, another. She did not stir. Her grey eyes never met his blue. Peeta knew, he knew that it would have been too good to be true. He cursed himself for the hope that had seeped into his being. He gave the princess one last, long look, turned up his cape, and fled the room quietly.

**Don't hate me! I'm back from Nicaragua so I'm assuming updates will be more frequent, but I'm very busy, so there will be no promises for consistent updates. This was definitely the hardest chapter for me to write, I'm not sure why! I'll get started on the next one in a few days. Please, please tell me what you all think and what you're feeling! Love you all! **

**EmmaoftheValley**

**P.s. The song is from the Disney movie, but I changed it slightly. It's called "Poor Aurora".**


	4. Chapter 4

**2 Weeks Later**

Peeta regrets having kissed her. He does. _Thwack, _his sickle slices the wheat. He wishes he still had the optimism of not knowing. _Thwack, thwack, thwack. _His strikes on the plants are harsher than necessary, but it's of a therapeutic nature. He had been in the wheat field all morning, harvesting. His shirt was soaked through with sweat; the sun was at its highest point in the sky and gave him no leeway. He didn't even notice his dry throat, for he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts.

His lips still tingled with the feel of hers, and it was like his own personal reminder he hadn't been good enough. _Thwack, thwack. _

"Peeta, Peeta!" he heard from a distance. It was one of his father's farm hands, Finnick. _Thwack. _Peeta ignored him. He heard the tap of running feet growing closer.

"Peeta! You won't believe what has happened!" Finnick called, reaching the wheat field and running through the path Peeta had cut. Peeta stopped his work and stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees.

Finnick tried to relay his information, but he was speaking so quickly, so jumbled, that Peeta scarcely caught a word of it.

"Finnick," Peeta said forcibly, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Tell me again, slower. I don't understand you."

"The princess," Finnick heaved. "She's awake."

Peeta's eyebrows shot up. Finnick was babbling, but Peeta heard nothing. He was dizzy.

"Finnick, Finnick!" Peeta shook his shoulders, interrupting him. "Pray tell, when did this happen?"

"Nearly a fortnight ago!" Finnick said animatedly. Peeta was elated, floating. "Two weeks…" he murmured to himself.

"Yes, a prince came to the Capitol, and kissed her, and she awoke! You missed it by only half a day, at most, Peet! You could've been there when it happened, had you stayed but a day more," he explained, not realizing what his words would do to Peeta.

"A prince, you say?" Peeta whispered.

"Yes, a prince, from a far, far away kingdom. He road so far to see her, how could he have not been the one to love her? They're to be married in the coming months," Finnick explained.

Peeta felt a terrible pain in his gut. All the blood rushed out of his face, and he could barely utter a reply. He tried to go back to his work, but was fruitless. He dropped off what he had picked at their back door for his father to turn to flour, and went away to bathe his dirty body in the brook.

He lay on the bed of rocks as the water rushed by him, completely at a loss. He had spent the better part of his life in love with this girl. He was still in love with this girl. He loved not another soul the way he loved her, and found no other thing, not a flower, not a bird, not the moon, as lovely and elegant as she… even the four year old version he had met long ago.

Peeta felt cheated. How could his love not be pure? How could it not be real? Were those not the qualifications to break the curse? Did this prince pass every waking thought on the princess? Was she present in all his dreams?

"I never even had a chance!" he shouted to the day, rolling over in the riverbed and submerging his face in the shallow water.

But he was acting like a child, he soon realized. It was not like him to pity himself so. If he truly loved her, he would want her to be happy. He should not be moping in his defeat, but rejoicing in her gain. Her curse was broken, she had someone who truly loved her, more than Peeta ever had, and that, Peeta felt, was a true blessing.

Peeta wanted what was best for the princess, and if that wasn't him, then he needed to accept it.

**One Month Later**

Peeta knew that she would be married; it was a universal truth. He hadn't expected it to creep up on him, however.

He had no time for much of anything, really, because his father's bakery (the best, though quite small in comparison to most, bakery in the kingdom) had been commissioned to make a cake. It was a cake for Princess Katniss's wedding. Rather, an example cake. This cake would be examined, changes would be made to fit the princess's wishes, and then, in another month, they would bring the finished product for the wedding.

This entailed nearly twenty days of travel for Peeta and his brothers, but the payment was so grand, and the honor so high, that there was no choice but to accept.

When Peeta had been decorating the cake (for his gentle, artistic hands were the most skilled in this area), he had tried to make it beautiful; something she would appreciate. His mindset was that she deserved happiness, and he was going to bestow it upon her in any way he could. It wasn't characteristically beautiful, it was the beauty he saw in Katniss. The dark green of a forest floor, the gentle grace of a bird in every stroke of his hand.

Once Peeta had finished, he looked upon his work, dubbing it the best he'd ever done, thought seriously about throwing it in the pigs' trough, and decidedly packaged it up for his journey.

He traveled to the Capitol with his two brothers, Phyll and Rye. Peeta had to go, for he was the maker who had to present his work, and his two brothers went because their father didn't quite trust Peeta's emotions in the Capitol.

"What do you think she'll look like?" questioned Rye to Phyll as they walked to the castle gates. Peeta was trailing behind them quietly. He didn't hear Phyll's reply.

The King's advisor met them and directed them to the Great Hall, the very same one Peeta had crept through nearly two months ago. When they entered, everything was silence. He could tell there were many people present, but he didn't dare raise his eyes. Now, he walked in front of his brothers as they carried his work behind him.

When he was close enough, he and his brothers knelt down, as was custom.

"You may rise," came a euphonious voice. Peeta stood, but did not raise his eyes. He was immediately aware of the things that usually slipped his mind. His clothing felt scratchy against his skin. He was in control of his blinking and breathing. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, and he desperately needed a drink of water.

"I bid thee to present thy tidings, young baker," the voice commanded in a soothing tone, sensing Peeta's nerve. He nodded and turned to his brothers, pulling the case off of the cake, as well as meeting the princess's eyes for the first time.

It was as if she was the only one in the room. Her heart shaped lips a pink glaze, her rose colored cheeks flushing before his eyes, at what he could only assume was her joy in seeing the cake. Her dark hair was up elegantly, no longer a disarray of stray curls. She was clothed all in white, a dress of different design, but much like the dress she had spent her slumber in.

She was elegant, she was glowing, she was gorgeous, she was as radiant as the sun, and he had never more longed for her redemancy.

His face felt hot.

She gasped as her cheeks flushed, but she hadn't yet laid eyes on the cake.

"Those eyes," she murmured.

"My princess?" asked the king quietly, alarmed.

"I know you," she said clearly, her voice ringing out like a bird. Peeta dared not breathe. "I walked with you once… upon a dream." She closed her eyes, as if remembering a long forgotten fantasy. They opened widely.

"I know you," she repeated, rising and stepping towards him. The king and his entire retinue, as well as the onlookers, gasped collectively. It was unheard of for royalty to rise in the Great Hall in the presence of peasants. She was mere inches away from him when she stopped her progression, looking at him curiously, as if he was a puzzle she couldn't quite wrap her mind around. "The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam."

Her delicate brow was furrowed in concentration, scrutinizing his next move. He simply stared.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "But perhaps…" she murmured. "I am mistaken." Her steal grey eyes cut through Peeta. They were stunning.

Peeta had not processed a word of what she had said. He could only hear the rapid pulse in his ear.

"Your name?" she asked, resignedly calm, as if she hadn't just broken any protocols.

He swallowed, willing his lungs to function. "Peter Mellark, my princess," he said quietly, bowing his head. Her eyes glanced toward the cake, only for a moment, and then back to Peeta, for she could scarcely take her eyes from him. "And you crafted this?" she questioned. "Yes, my princess," he agreed. "It is lovely," she commented. It appeared that others in the room would have disagreed, but Peeta hadn't made it for them. It was for Katniss. He simply nodded his thanks.

"How many days anon was your trek?" she asked next. "Five, my lady," he answered.

She nodded, turning to her servants. "Prepare rooms for Mr. Mellark and company, please, gentle aides. They must rest a day before their long journey. Take stable for their horses, and be sure to supply them with all they need. Thank you." They nodded and left. No one asked if the Mellarks were okay with this. It would have been a great dishonor to deny the princess.

She turned back to Peeta, eyeing him as curiously as before. Her eyes were bouncing to his every feature, and it appeared as though she was memorizing him. Peeta was beyond comprehending this.

"Princess?" called a member of her retinue, who had just stepped into the hall.

"Yes, Madame?" she returned.

"Sir Cato was wondering if you were quite finished here, and has requested your presence in the great room for tea," she explained. Katniss nodded her assent, and Peeta thought perhaps he saw a glint of disappointment in her eyes, but it was most likely a trick of the light, or his wild imagination, he reasoned. She gave him a last, fleeting glance, and turned to exit, her robes billowing behind her as she left.

**I've spent every free moment I've had on this! I have truly been so busy. I'm pretty happy with the turn out of this chapter, though. Usually I have a hard time applying my thoughts to paper like this, but this chapter flowed out easily. **

**As for coming updates, I am so busy and stressed! So to say updates will be irregular, is an understatement. **

**Please please please review! It gives me so much motivation. **

**EmmaoftheValley**

**P.s. I have found the most flawless (CANON) picture of a sleeping beauty scene. It seriously looks almost exactly as I pictured it. It's on my profile. I'm also going to make it the cover image for this story! If you like this story, please go look at it! You will love it! **


	5. Chapter 5

It was afternoon when Peeta and his brothers had finally settled into their very ostentatious quarters at the castle. All three of them were a little more than confused at the princess's actions. They were nothing but peasants, but were being treated like esteemed guests.

When the princess had asked them to stay, Peeta had expected one room to share, in the servant quarters at that. They were each given their own rooms, along with a parlor and bath to share. Their two horses were being fed, watered, and brushed, free of charge. On top of all of this, they received a letter from one of the attendants inviting them to dinner that night.

Peeta decided to take a walk on the grounds to clear his mind. He was in the very gardens he had met Katniss in twelve years ago. He wanted to not think of anything at all, but his meeting with the princess just hours before was constantly flitting into his mind. He wondered if she had recognized him from when they were little. But even if she had, he didn't think she would've reacted like that. Then, when she came closer, she examined him and thought she might have been mistaken. _Clearly it was just a mistake, _Peeta thought, but he could not wipe the event from his mind.

An artist's eye like his couldn't help but admire the flowers in the garden. It was like a sensory overload of color. Leaves climbed up the castle walls, pink buds that seemed to be opening more every minute coming off them. The castle was completely different from what Peeta remembered from almost two months ago. Then, it was dead, lifeless, broken down. Now, it was if it was coming alive before his very eyes. Every second the princess was alive brought the castle beauty and new life.

As he walked, he heard a lady's voice floating out of one of the windows. She was singing. He hadn't heard this particular voice in a very long time, and, though altered by age, he knew at once that it was the princess. He followed the sound. The voice grew louder as he walked, and he ascertained which room it was coming from. He went up to it, stood on a rock placed in just the right spot in order to see, and gingerly peeked inside.

It was Katniss, of course. She was singing, alone, as she combed her hair. She was dipping the comb in water and running it through her hair, in order to smooth it down. The song had picked up a new tune, and now she was simply humming, her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the comb on her scalp. Then, she started singing.

"_I know you,_

_I walked with you once upon a dream._

_I know you,_

_The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam._

_I know it's true,_

_that visions are seldom all they seem…"_

Her voice broke off, cracking. Peeta had sunken to the ground, leaning against the wall, backwards to the princess, lost in her voice. She hesitated, and when she picked up again, Peeta could hear the question in her voice.

"_But if I know you, I know what you'll do_

_You'll love me at once,_

_the way you did once upon a dream."_

Her voice was as lovely as he remembered.

She said those very words to him earlier, but how could she be singing of him? She had a prince, a prince who loved her more than Peeta Mellark ever could. Peeta hadn't even realized the singing had stopped, and was shocked out of his reverie by luke-warm water being dumped over his head. He sprung to his feet, yelling in surprise.

Katniss gasped. "Mr. Mellark, what on earth are you doing down there?" she asked in alarm.

His blush was blotchy and red, not at all the attractive blush that occasionally graced Katniss's features.

Peeta cleared his throat. "I'm sorry… you have a lovely singing voice," he commented. It was her turn to blush.

"Oh," she said bashfully. "I don't ever like to sing in front of people. Not even when I was, er, little…" her eyes glazed over and her features changed, a look of regret coming over her face.

"Princess?" Peeta asked quietly, not sure if he should interrupt her.

She shook her head, clearing it. "You never really answered my question, you know," she said seriously. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh. I, I was just taking a walk. The gardens are beautiful here," he complimented.

Her eyes brightened, and she leaned out the window further, closer to the soaked young man looking up at her. Her hair was still down, and it dangled out of the window, so long that it almost tickled Peeta's nose, had he been an inch closer.

"They are quite wonderful, are they not? They were so… dreary when I first awoke. Everything was dead. Everything was black, and grey, and dark. Even inside the castle. It was like I went to sleep, but woke up in a nightmare. Sometimes… I imagine this is all a dream. I'll wake up and I'll be a little girl again," she stopped herself in the middle of her rambles, and looked at Peeta, wide eyed.

"I haven't the faintest idea why I said that to you. I don't even know you. It just slipped out. I'm sorry, how very improper of-" he cut her off.

"It's fine," he said quickly.

"Pardon?" she asked.

"It's refreshing, to hear someone say exactly what they're thinking, for once," he grinned, his eyes glinting.

Katniss blushed again, looking away, yet she couldn't help but smile, and Peeta realized that it was the first smile he had seen her bestow upon not only him, but anyone, as far as he could remember.

They remained quiet for a moment. She looked up at him.

"Mr. Mellark, would you mind terribly if I joined you for your stroll?" she asked quietly.

He stared at her. She looked down. "My apologies… it was just a thought," she said quickly.

"No, no, princess. I'd be honored if you'd join me… only, without a chaperone?" Peeta asked, blushing. It would have been scandalous for any boy and girl to be without a chaperone, let alone the princess and a peasant.

"Oh, we wouldn't go far. Just around the gardens. We'd be in site of the castle at all times, of course, Mr. Mellark. My caretaker, Miss Effie, will know of my whereabouts, too," she explained, making it perfectly clear she had no intentions of scandalizing herself.

"Then please, by all means, join me," he smiled. She gifted him with another of hers. "Only…" he began. Her smile dropped. "Yes?" she asked. "It feels as if I just went for a swim," he explained.

Her smile returned, and she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Right. Did I ever apologize for that? I'm sorry. It is not every day I have people sitting under my window sill," she laughed. He blushed again.

"I will meet you here in a quarter of an hour, if you'd like to change, Mr. Mellark," she said. Her smiles were fleeting, but he could hear the kindness in her voice.

"Yes, my princess. Till then," he said in departure. "Till then," she agreed, leaning back inside.

Peeta waited anxiously, staring up at the sky. It was that time in the afternoon when the sun was no longer at its highest point, and everything was lazy with the slowly fading light.

"Mr. Mellark?" came an increasingly familiar voice. Peeta looked over, his eyes wide with his innocent admiration. He gave her a shy smile.

"Hello, princess," he greeted, bowing slightly.

Her hair was braided over her shoulder, and she was wearing a much less ostentatious dress than the previous ones Peeta had seen. Peeta wanted to tell her how immaculate she was, but knew it wouldn't be right.

He held out his arm for her, and she took it gratefully.

At first, they walked in silence. Peeta's throat was closing in his effort to stay calm, and he hadn't the faintest clue as to what he would say to her. When they met at the window it was so informal. Now, he felt the weight of his social class bearing down on him, the weight of his inferiority. Likewise, Katniss felt the weight of her engagement ring on her finger.

Katniss was the first to speak. "My mother, she used to love to listen to me sing," she said suddenly. "I really don't know why." Peeta knew.

"I would be readying for sleep, or at my studies, singing to myself. When I would step outside the room, she'd be sitting right by the door. I'd never know she was there. She always made it seem like she had just gotten there, but I knew," she said thoughtfully. Peeta sensed she had forgotten he was even there.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She turned to him. "Thank you."

Silence snuck back in, unnoticed.

"Your cake was beautiful," she complimented, again the first to speak.

"It was a pleasure to make for you."

"It was green, my favorite color," she told him.

"I know," he said quietly.

"How do you know that?" she snapped quickly, almost harshly. Her eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I just feel like I've met you before. It frustrates me."

Peeta nodded.

"We met when we were very little. It was in these gardens, actually. We were four, and you sang me a song. The valley song. And there was a woman, your nursemaid, I believe. She was very angry at me…" he trailed off.

"Effie, I bet," she said. "I'm sorry… I don't remember that."

That was the last words spoken to one another. Wordlessly, they both determined a point where it was proper to turn back, though neither relished in the fact. Peeta was done admiring the flowers, and stole glances at the princess throughout the rest of the walk. They didn't speak again until Peeta had walked her to the door that led into her quarters.

He kissed her hand slowly. She stepped inside her door, and was going to bid him farewell, but thought otherwise.

"You look like someone from my dreams. I feel as if I know everything about you, but nothing at all," and with that, she shut her door.

Neither party knew the other stood, planted to their spots, on either side of the door for a long while after.

**Fluff, fluff, fluff. I had intended to write more to this chapter, but I won't have a chance to write again this week, and I wanted to update! Also the story will be more like 10 to 15 chapters, I'm thinking. **

**Thank you for the love/support and every single review (even just "Great chapter!" makes me happy :) **

**EmmaoftheValley**


	6. Chapter 6

"So, Mr. Mellark," said the king with an obvious strain in his voice, turning towards Peeta's eldest brother, Phyll. "Are you also a baker, like your youngest brother?"

Phyll wiped his mouth and dried his sweaty palms on his thighs before answering. "I bake some. I don't have the talent or patience to decorate, like Peeta. I mainly farm in the fields, wheat and the like. Ingredients my father uses for baking."

"'Peeta? Why do you call him Peeta?" the princess asked abruptly. Effie, her lady's maid, looked like she could burst from the lapse in manners.

"Oh," Rye chuckled. "When we were little I couldn't say my r's. Naturally, Peter wasn't the easiest name for me. I would call him Peeta, and it really just stuck. It's a family nickname, but I don't really know anyone who calls him anything different.

Luckily, no one calls me 'Wye' now, for I couldn't say my own name, either," he laughed good-naturedly.

The three brothers shared a chuckle, but no others in the room laughed. An awkward silence followed, but Peeta noted with relief that the princess was at least smiling to herself.

Just when the king was going to make another strained attempt at conversation, a man walked in. He was dressed in breeches of silk with golden buttons. His waist coat was elaborately embroidered. His shirt was of a fine linen with a lace collar, and his boots were black with golden buckles. He was the peak of style.

His hair was blond and he had blue eyes, though they were much darker than Peeta's azure color. He did look a great deal like Peeta, though his jaw was more hardened and his demeanor much more severe.

"Ah, Master Cato," greeted the king happily. Peeta's chest tightened. This was the prince marrying Katniss. Peeta glanced down at the attire he was donning; the best in his possession. A simple, red shirt with common breeches. The only part that made them a bit nicer than his other clothing were the velvet pockets. He fought off a blush.

"Sorry I'm so late," the prince apologized. "I was riding and I lost track of time." He took his seat next to the princess. It was quiet as he folded his napkin on his lap and began to dig in to his food.

"Darling," said Katniss quietly. The food Peeta had consumed lurched in his stomach. "Yes, my lady?" Cato asked between bites. Katniss was blushing. "Aren't you going to greet our guests?" she asked.

Prince Cato looked up. "Oh," he said, pretending like he was only just noticing the three men on the opposite side of the table to him, though Peeta had made eye contact with him and knew better. "My apologies. I am Cato, Katniss's fiancé. And you are?" he questioned in a polite tone.

Phyl cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his thighs again. "Phyll Mellark, sir, and these are my brothers, Rye and Peeta Mellark," he introduced, pointing to them in turn.

"Ah, you are the baker that made our cake?" Cato asked, turning towards Peeta. Peeta nodded. "I haven't seen it, but Katniss was rather infatuated with it." Peeta supposed that was a compliment.

Cato and King Everdeen chatted animatedly, mostly ignoring the three brothers. After the courses were finished, the king clapped his hands together.

"Well, why don't we sample this cake that my daughter is so fond of, yes?" the king requested, though the servants knew it was an order. They exited to retrieve the cake.

"It's really lovely, Cato," said Katniss, smiling. "It has these flowers that almost look real, with my favorite color-" She was, regrettably, cut off before she could finish.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it's beautiful," said the prince, brushing her off.

Just then, it was brought out and set before them. Katniss was watching Sir Cato closely for his reaction, for perhaps the widening of his eyes or the raising of his brows, but there was nothing but silent indifference. She was disappointed. The cake was cut and served.

The three Mellarks picked around theirs, for they were no strangers towards these desserts, and were even rather sick of them after all the time they'd spent eating the bakery leftovers. However, it was clear that the others really enjoyed theirs. The lighted expressions at their first bites gave the Mellarks all the satisfaction they needed. Prince Cato even cut another piece for himself.

"You like it, darling?" asked Katniss. Cato's mouth was full, so he simply nodded vigorously. Katniss smiled, almost in relief.

Phyll and King Everdeen actually struck up a flowing conversation with one another, and the others were forced to stay long after they had finished. One could not rise until the king was finished. Just when they were preparing to stand, Katniss spoke, her eyes on Peeta.

"Sir Cato loves your baking, it is clear. I am also quite fond of it, as I'm sure anyone would be. Mr. Mellark, what I mean by this praise is… would you, perhaps, desire a position on our staff?" she started eloquently, but her voice came out quickly, nervously at the end.

Peeta's and his brothers' eyebrows shot to their hairlines.

"That is, if my father is okay with it?" she asked, turning towards the king. He smiled, waving his hand indifferently.

"You know I don't care, Nightingale. All the better," he murmured. Peeta was stopped short by the nickname her father gave her. In his mind, Peeta was constantly comparing her actions and features to that of a bird. A nightingale was a perfect comparison. A bird that frequently sings, its tune quite lovely and unique. At first glance one could miss its immeasurable elegance and beauty, but it is there. She turns to Peeta expectantly.

"I… I'm flattered, my princess, but…" he began, but she broke him off in the middle. In a panicked tone she pleaded, "Oh, don't decide right now. Let us know in the morning. You are most welcome here, Peeta Mellark."

His eyes softened, and he nodded.

Peeta was conflicted. It was a great honor to work at the palace. He would most likely be paid more than his father's bakery made in a year. It was one less mouth for his father to feed. Refusing the princess would be horrible for their business, too.

On the other hand, could he really stay there? With the princess so close? He would have to bake for her, be her servant when all he'd ever wanted was to be her friend, her husband. His sadness in knowing he could never be with her was nearly unbearable in the Seam, five days away… could he truly bear it here? He would have to serve her fiancé, Prince Cato. He'd have to cook for them after they were married. He'd eventually have to bake for their _children_…

He dragged his hands roughly through his hair, trying to make those thoughts go away. He needed to go for a walk; walks always helped him calm down. He wasn't sure he was allowed to roam the halls of the castle, but no one told him otherwise, so he set off.

He walked, paying no attention as to where he was going. His legs took him down hall after hall, until he came to the end of a corridor. Though he was not alone.

Prince Cato was at the end of the hall, his hair mussed. He didn't even notice Peeta, for he was too wrapped up in what he was doing. Too wrapped up in Katniss, that is. They were kissing, but this was not the chaste kiss of two mannered young adults. It was a kiss of passion, the likes of which Peeta had never witnessed before. It would have been so inappropriate, had the two been discovered like this.

_Well, had they been discovered by someone that mattered, _Peeta thinks.

He notes with chagrin that it appears as though the princess is kissing with just as equal fervor as her suitor. He also knows he cannot judge her, for she knew without a fathom of a doubt that this man loved her, knew without a fathom of a doubt that they were destined to be married. Peeta figured that if he was in a similar situation he could, too, be discovered, un-chaperoned, kissing passionately in an abandoned corridor in the dead of the night. Peeta wished his feet were not so thoroughly cemented to the floor .

The prince's kisses fled Katniss's lips, and found a new home on her neck. Her eyes opened. Peeta was sure he was caught, but upon a second glance it was clear that the princess's mind was not in that hallway. She stared down the hall, above Peeta's head, unseeing, her expression completely and utterly haunted, as if she was in the middle of a nightmare.

Peeta fled the scene at a brisk pace, and did not stop until he was at his quarters. As he was changing into his night clothes he knew for certain what his decision would be.

He had to stay, if only to discover what could have possibly put such a tortured expression on a young woman's face.

**Please review! Let me know what you think. I have sort of a challenge for you all. I will begin writing the next chapter (no matter how utterly swamped I am) when this story hits 55 reviews. Hitting 50 favorites would also be lovely, but those cannot be asked for; they must be earned. **

**Also, we have hit the 100 mark for follows! I feel so honored that there are over 100 people reading this story!**

**P.s. Do any of you have tumblr? **


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Peeta saw his brothers off with a great sadness in his heart. He assured them he was going to be fine. He would have everything he needed, and he would be safe. He'd send them money so they didn't feel his loss at the bakery so acutely. He begged them to tell their father he was happy; Peeta knew how he worried.

"You be good, Peet," Phyll murmured in his ear as he hugged him. Those were the last words he heard either of his brothers speak.

He was quickly thrust into his work, and took pleasure in the fact that, because his bread and desserts were so well-liked in the castle, he had little time for anything else. When he went to bed at night, he was tired from kneading dough all day, from carrying heavy bags of flour and ingredients, from the careful concentration it took to decorate a pastry or cookie.

He rarely saw the princess, for which he was thankful. Occasionally, at dinners and special occasions, he'd be called at and praised for his commendable work, for he did work hard.

There was never a time where he didn't have a smudge of something or another on his face, never a time where a part of him wasn't covered in flour.

The next time he spoke with the princess was, in fact, only when she sought him out personally. He was baking bread; the hardy type of bread with oats and spices and raisins that tasted of pumpkin and cinnamon. He didn't notice her until she was right next to him, watching his work carefully.

"My princess," he said in alarm, taking a step away and bowing slightly, eyes widening perceptively.

"Oh, Mr. Mellark, please don't bow in my presence. It makes me feel so silly," she pleaded, her cheeks tingeing pink.

He nodded once, unsure of what he could say. "Have you… how may I be of assistance?" he questioned. She looked around his work station, at the ingredients, at the pans, at anything but Peeta himself.

"I presume you're hungry?" he joked, grinning. Why else would she be there?

"Oh, um, yes. Yes, I was just in the gardens. I'm famished, really," she said, though it nearly sounded like a question, and it appeared she had only just arrived at the conclusion of hunger.

"Well, is there anything you had in mind?" he offered. Peeta may have been in the presence of the girl he had been enamored with for the better part of his life, but there was only so much shyness he had; then came the easy, polite confidence he so effortlessly radiated.

Katniss paused for a moment in thought, and then said, "Oh! I know. For tea the other day, you made these lovely little pieces of bread. Like biscuits, but not so dry and hard. They had the most delectable type of cheese melted not on them, but _in _them. You may not remember, but they were exquisite…" The words gushed out of her before she could have a second thought, and Peeta knew by her fervor she was not simply being polite. She had truly enjoyed them.

He smiled bashfully. "Those? They're just cheese buns, Princess. They-" "Katniss!" she broke in eagerly, stubbornly, intent on making it perfectly clear she expected no formalities between them. He eyed her for a moment, almost in disbelief, but then shook his head, submitting.

"Yes, _Katniss," _he smiled. "They are almost embarrassingly simple. But if those are truly what you desire, I can serve them to you in the Great Room twenty minutes from now?"

A hint of disappointment glinting across her features, she agreed. "That would be lovely, Mr. Mellark." "Peeta!" he interjected, mocking her only slightly. Now she eyed him, a bit shocked, but then offered him one of her rare smiles. "That would be lovely, Peeta."

As he was getting the ingredients to make the cheese buns, he was vaguely aware of a pair of eyes on him, though his back was turned. Once he had molded the ingredients together, he smirked to himself and asked, "Pr—Katniss, would you like me to show you how to make them?"

He turned around, grinning at her where she was planted in the doorway. She smiled sheepishly, caught. She still had the audacity to put on an air of indifference, however, as she accepted his request: "I suppose… why not?"

Peeta quickly measured out ingredients, reaching for a clean bowl to put them all in. The dough he had been kneading when Katniss had entered lay forgotten, as well as the dough he had just crafted for her cheese buns. He instructed her in what to put in and when, giving her tips on the best possible way to mix and add ingredients.

She surprised him, for he expected her to never have made her own food a day in her life. She was, on the contrary, quite competent and clever, catching on quickly. It was also clear that baking was not her forte, however.

She donned a look of great concentration in cutting out the circular shapes of the dough to bake. It was a task Peeta could do in his sleep. Her cuts were crude and unshapely, though they got the job done. Peeta praised her for it; she accepted none of it. She was quite stubborn in the matter, and insisted they re-knead the dough until she could cut it to perfection.

As he watched her, there was a moment where he felt like the entire experience was surreal. How could he, Peeta Mellark, be in the kitchens of the royal castle, teaching the _princess, _the apple of his eye, how to bake bread? Was she even real? He worried constantly that he'd wake up in his bedroom in the Seam, shared by his two elder brothers, and have to go cut wheat in their field or do another every day chore.

She glanced over at him, and he quickly shifted his eyes to the bread. He couldn't help but peak at her through his eyelashes when he sure she wasn't looking, though.

"You have to flour the pan before you place them on it, Katniss," he directed, and then stopped, realizing how easily the name flowed from his tongue. He liked the feeling, liked the sound. She didn't notice his missed beat.

"Like this?" she questioned, focusing intently on her project. Peeta sensed she wasn't used to getting things wrong.

"Perfect," he assured. "Only…" he trailed off, determining that it was best to show her. His hand enveloped hers, helping her to spread the flour evenly across the pan. "It shouldn't be in clumps, just a light layer, like so. Yes, that's it. You're a natural," he praised, grinning broadly. He held her hand an instant too long, but she either didn't notice or didn't mind. He couldn't help but notice the contrast in their hands. His were enormous, completely encompassing her much smaller, petite ones. For as much as her hands were smooth and soft, his were rough and calloused.

"Master Cato must've eaten five of these, he loved them so much," Katniss complemented as she worked.

It was like a slap in the face. It was as if a rug was pulled out from under his feet. It was equivalent to a punch in the gut; the wind was knocked out of him and his breath caught.

How dare she mention him now? How dare she ruin this moment that he deemed so intimate, so simple in its perfection? He stepped back.

An instant later Katniss realized her misdemeanor, turning to face him with an apology on her lips. It was a moment too late, though, and in the next, Madame Effie came rushing in, scolding her profusely.

"Honestly, Princess, you are not a child any longer. You can't just disappear on everyone. And you certainly can't be seen coercing with this… this _trash_!" she reprimanded.

Every word that Madame Effie spoke drew Peeta further and further in himself, away from the princess. Katniss glanced over to him with a shocked expression, horrified that Effie would ever say such things.

"He was making me cheese buns, Effie, and I certainly don't think he deserves to be treated with such harsh words," Katniss said stubbornly.

"Nonsense, nonsense, Princess. Peasants aren't hurt by such words, especially not when they know they're true," she laughed as she ushered Katniss out. Katniss put up some resistance, but knew it was futile.

"He will bring the food to your literature studies in the Great Room when he is finished," said Effie. "Like a _proper_ servant." She eyed him sternly. He gave one quick, stiff nod.

"Of course. They'll be ready soon, Princess," he appeased. Though her back was turned to him, he saw Katniss's shoulders slump minutely. He was back to "Princess" so soon.

Though let down, with his ego slightly wounded, he finished the cheese buns and arranged them on a serving platter, along with sauce and tea. He carried the snack into the Great Room and saw Katniss across the hall, reading.

Her posture was pristine, her head held high, with the light from the early afternoon catching her silhouette. Peeta didn't allow himself to watch her, and hurriedly carried the tray over to where she was sitting at a table. She did not so much as look up from her reading until the clank of the tray being set on the table startled her. Peeta answered her glance with a polite nod. He unfolded the cloth napkin, placing it on her lap. He set out the silver ware and tea carefully.

"Is there anything else I can be of assistance with?" he asked quietly. She shook her head once. Just as he was picking up the now empty tray and preparing to leave, she latched on to his arm, pulling him down with more strength than he would have ever assumed she had, forcing him to sit in the chair next to her.

"Who," she began, looking him directly in the eyes. "Are. You?"

Peeta stiffened. "I can't say I know what you mean. I-I'm Peeta Mellark. A baker. What else-" she cut him off.

"You claim we've never met. Well, except when we were children, yes?" she asked brusquely.

"Yes," Peeta gulped.

"Liar," she said immediately. He gaped. She couldn't possibly know he snuck into her room to kiss her, could she?

"I know you. We've met, just as we are now. I'm sure of it…" she trailed off. "When… when I was _asleep…" _She shook her head, and stopped talking.

Peeta cleared his throat, and with great difficulty, spoke. "Perhaps I remind you of your fiancé, Princess. We are similar in appearance and-"

"You are _nothing _like him," she nearly growled, her teeth bared. She recovered quickly. "Do not treat me as if I am stupid, Peeta. I know _you_."

They sat in thick, awkward silence for a few moments.

It was Katniss who was the first to break the quiet. "Meet me in the tallest tower, tonight. At… at midnight. I wish to show you something."

Peeta simply nodded, standing up. He thought that by this time to point out the fact that a meeting such as the one Katniss spoke of was wildly scandalous was unnecessary, and so held his tongue.

* * *

The silence of darkness like a cloak over his form, he waited in the highest room of the tallest tower for his company. He sat on the floor, knees tucked to his chest, leaning against the wall built of stone. A pool of sweat was collecting at his brow, though he wasn't entirely sure why. His only entertainment was to watch as the shadows on the wall across from him shifted with the moonlight and wind, pushing the trees. He had the tense feeling of anticipation in his gut.

The faint echo of footsteps could soon be heard on the steps. Peeta shrunk into the darkest part of the room, afraid that those steps did not belong to the princess. The steps he heard were those of stealth, belonging to someone who did not want to be heard, someone who could creep so quietly that their prey wouldn't even know what had hit them by the time the steps were directly in front of them.

They were the steps of a hunter, and when Katniss stepped through the doorway, Peeta almost did not recognize her.

Her body was lithe, her face serious. She wore a peasant's blouse, tucked in to trousers much like a man would wear. This alone shocked Peeta to the core. He had never seen a woman in trousers before. The curve of her hip was all the more enticing now.

She wore a pair of faded leather boots that laced to mid-calf. Her braid was around her shoulder, the same as always. The most astounding characteristic of her person, however, was the bow and arrow in her hands, her arrow pulled tight against the bow string, ready to shoot. There was a quiver on her back and Peeta could see several other arrows poking out of it.

"Peeta," she whispered, peering into the darkness. Peeta blanched. For one moment, he truly believed that she had come to kill him. An armed huntress, lethal by design.

She sighed, shaking her head, assuming he had not arrived yet. Peeta watched as she turned towards the window. Everything was quiet as she took aim with her bow. As she inhaled, she pulled the arrow tightly back on the string. One moment of contemplation, and then a near silent release as she exhaled. She allowed herself a confident half smile as she watched the arrow fly.

Peeta only noticed the rope attached to the arrow once it had begun to rapidly unravel at her belt. He knew when the point had hit its destination, for the slack of the line pulled tight. With capable fingers, she untied the end of the rope from her belt and looped it securely around a hook on the castle wall. She had done this before.

Peeta was so wrapped up in the scene before him that he accidentally shuffled forward, making a quiet but distinct rustling sound. When his eyes turned to Katniss, another arrow was in her bow, and it was being aimed directly at him.

"Katniss!" he started. "It's Peeta, only Peeta." He stepped out of the darkness, and Katniss lowered her weapon slowly.

"Why did you not answer me when I said your name?" Her eyes were accusing.

"I'm sorry," he said, searching for an answer. "I was just watching. What… what are you doing?"

She did not answer, but instead, eyes glinting, nodded her head towards the window. He walked over to where Katniss stood and looked out. The arrow was stuck in a tree, a ways off, and the rope was at a diagonal angle downward.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. "You can't possibly think we're going to climb down there?" he whispered harshly. He eyed the ground, noticing how impossibly far it seemed from where he stood.

"No," she said simply. Peeta's shoulders slumped in relief. "We're going to fly."

She did not give him time to react as she swung her quiver to the front, pulling out two pieces of silk cloth. She stood up on the sill. "Come," she said, holding out her hand for him. Peeta stared at it, as though it was bringing him to his death.

"Why, Mr. Mellark, are you _scared_?" Katniss teased.

"Katniss, why don't we just walk out the front doors?" he asked incredulously.

Katniss was only half paying attention as she attached the cloth to the rope. "Cato does not like me to go far from the castle. Besides, my father thinks it too dangerous. I have to go like this. I cannot stay imprisoned in this God-forsaken castle my entire life. Even so, disregarding any of that, the sight of you and I walking out the front doors… I dressed in a men's clothing with a weapon, at that. If the guards saw… why, I think we'd both be put to death." She finished her monologue, and directed him to watch carefully.

She glanced at him, and, seeing his unease, explained, "It is not as though I haven't done this before, Peeta. You are safe."

"You are much smaller than I, Princess," he returned.

"Your cloth is thicker. Just trust me. Don't you trust me?" she asked. He looked up at her standing on the sill, a complete paradox to all she should be, her grey eyes like storm clouds, stirring. He did, he trusted her completely, and so nodded.

"I will go first. Watch me," she told him, gripping onto the cloth with both hands.

"Make sure to squeeze the cloth tight at the end, and brace your legs. You don't want to hit the tree with too much force. You could break something. It's about an eight foot drop from where you hit. As long as you roll into the fall, you will be fine. All right?" she asked.

Peeta gulped, nodded, and then, without further prelude, she jumped.

Peeta watched as she flew so gracefully down the line, and, for what felt like the thousandth time, he couldn't help but be reminded of a bird. She hit the tree barely making a sound, and landed on the ground seconds later. She beckoned for him to jump.

He took a deep breath and stepped up onto the window sill. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering her words, _Don't you trust me?_

He latched on firmly to the silken material, stole himself, and jumped. He could not register much, other than the wind ripping through his hair and the feeling that his stomach had bottomed out. He hit the tree too harshly, with little grace, and crumpled to the ground in a heap.

He heard her laugh bubble over her restrain before he saw the grin on her face, and was thankful the night covered his crimson blush. He could hardly be angry at her; pulling a rare smile from her never ceased to please him.

"Har har, Princess," he said, satire leaking from his words. He stood up and brushed himself off.

"Are you quite alright, Mr. Mellark?" she asked, finally composed.

"Fine," he grumbled.

"Well, that _is_ fortunate," she said, her eyes glinting.

"Why's that?" Peeta returned, slightly confused.

"You'll need your full health… that is, if you wish to catch me." She tore off before Peeta had even registered what had happened.

He stood, staring dumbly into the forest before his legs began to function, racing in the direction Katniss had fled.

Peeta had the speed, but Katniss the suppleness. Weaving through trees was no easy task, even more so when sprinting.

A few times, Peeta almost had her, clasping his hands to the back of her shirt, but it continued to slip from his grasp, and Katniss's laugh would fill the air, part from the terror of being caught, part from the exultance felt in escaping.

They came into a clearing, and Katniss halted, though Peeta did not notice that, nor his surroundings, and fell into her, chuckling deeply. They hit the ground with a thump, Peeta's farmer's build protecting Katniss from any harm. They caught their breath, his arm slung over her person, chests heaving.

Once Peeta had caught his breath, he started to take in his surroundings. They were on the bank of a pond, lying in the grass. The only tree in the clearing was an enormous weeping willow, larger than any other tree in the forest, the trunk as thick as three normal trunks, with knarled branches and vines that hung down onto the ground and into the water. This tree had lived many lifetimes. It was a wise tree.

"What are we doing here?" Peeta whispered. Anything louder than a murmur seemed out of place in the scene before them.

"I come here often," she returned. "I had never been here when I was younger, but I… I dreamt about it much while I was under the curse. When I woke, I simply found my way."

Peeta could barely make out her features, with only the light of the moon to guide him, but knew for certain that the distant look she sometimes wore was on her face then.

She took his hand in hers. "Would you like to know why I brought you here, Peeta?" she whispered. He nodded, though could hardly focus on anything other than the feel of her touch.

"When I had dreams about this place… you were always here with me. When I first met you I couldn't quite place you, but my memories from my time asleep have grown stronger with you in such close proximity. And now that you're here, I'm certain it was you," she finished, eyeing him anxiously for his response.

His voice came out hoarse and unrecognizable. "Why though? What purpose did my company serve? I am not your true love. It is not I who will marry you," he said in frustration.

"I sometimes entertain the idea that if you had come first, perhaps it would have been different," she told him quietly.

He turned away, not able to meet her gaze when he replied, lying through his teeth, "Perhaps."

Katniss led him towards the weeping willow. "Have you ever seen anything like it?" she asked. Peeta shook his head. "I like to climb it sometimes. I think it enjoys the company." Though, when Peeta reflected on this moment later, he thought that perhaps this lonely girl enjoyed the company, too. They walked below the waterfall of vines to the base of the tree and sat down.

"Peeta," she began. "Yes?" he returned, pulling pieces of grass out of the ground absently.

"Have you ever heard the story of The Hanging Tree?"

"I can't say that I have."

Katniss placed her hand on the tree. "They say this was the first weeping willow in existence. Many years ago it was a tree like any other. However, it was used for execution. By hanging, that is. It is said that many lives passed from this tree. Over the years, the tree grew more and more sad, until it started to weep and droop. The leaves fell downward, making vines, making a weeping willow. It was called The Hanging Tree.

"I'm not sure if I believe all that codswallop about the tree weeping, but I do believe that this was once The Hanging Tree. It isn't used anymore, since execution by hanging is outdated and cruel… but I'm sure it was once. But… perhaps the willow did weep," she finished.

It was silent for a moment. Their silences were no longer awkward.

"How tragic," Peeta commented, shuffling so that he now was lying down. "I never considered how the weeping willow received its name."

"I think I once heard a song about it, but I've long since forgotten," Katniss said absently, following suit.

"Katniss, where on earth did you get trousers? I don't think I've ever in my life seen a lady in trousers and a blouse," he wondered aloud. "As a matter of fact, where did you get a bow and arrow? How did you learn to shoot?" His questions weren't accusing, only painfully curious.

"I think the trousers were a servant's. It isn't quite practical to wear a corset, stockings, a gown, or those _dreadful _shoes whilst traipsing through the woods," Katniss explained, shuddering at the thought.

"And the bow?" he prompted.

"The bow was my father's, when I was a child. I doubt he'll ever realize it's missing now, he's so different from who he was. I taught myself to shoot a few months ago. At the risk of sounding narcissistic… I was quite the natural at it," she reflected, blushing.

From quiet, a faint fluttering sound started to crescendo, and Peeta began to glance around, confused.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Katniss exclaimed, rising to her feet. She reached a hand down and helped Peeta up, too. He raised an eyebrow at her, though he wasn't quite sure if she saw it or not.

"What we came here for. What I wanted to show you," she said in explanation, strutting purposefully through the willow vines, toward the pond. Peeta followed closely.

"This wasn't it?" he asked, his voice rising with the rise of the fluttering sound. "What in the world is that?"

"You'll see," Katniss told him patiently.

They arrived at the edge of the lake, where a little row boat was floating atop the water, tied to a post.

"Where did this come from?" he asked.

"Can't be sure. It was here the first time I came here. Whoever it is, or was, they don't seem to mind much that I use it. Or perhaps they simply haven't noticed."

After Katniss had untied it, Peeta handed her into the boat, and climbed in after, each facing the other. The oars were on either side of the dingy.

"Will you row us to the middle?" Katniss asked politely. "I can, though I think you can do it much faster, and we don't have much time."

Peeta nodded. "Of course."

He rowed them quickly to the very center of the pond, and Katniss took his hands in hers, directing him to watch the weeping willow closely.

At first, nothing. Slowly, and then all at once, little blue and golden lights began to light up the willow. Peeta watched with rapt anticipation. The lights then started to slowly float off the tree, one by one, over to the pond, until they were surrounding the two in the boat.

They were everywhere; high in the sky, close to the water, and anywhere in between. With the lights also reflecting off the water's surface, it seemed as though they were all-encompassing.

"What… what are they?" Peeta whispered.

"They're called sprites, but I cannot describe them," she told him, holding out her hand. A blue-lit sprite floated towards her, but as soon as it landed, its light went out. "Whenever someone gets close enough to see them, they disappear."

"I wish I could paint this moment," Peeta remarked quietly.

"You paint?" Katniss asked, as another sprite landed on her shoulder and extinguished.

"I haven't in a long while. It's just a hobby, I'm not very good at it," he answered humbly. Then, with all the courage he had, he spoke again. "I've wanted to paint you for a long time. The way your hair looks in the sunlight. Your blush. But I don't think I've ever longed to paint something more than I do right now. The way you look with the light from the sprites reflecting in your eyes… it's lovely. Although, you always look rather lovely."

As quickly as the sprites had appeared, they were gone, and it was soon so dark that neither Katniss nor Peeta could see a hand in front of their faces, let alone one another.

No words were spoken. The sprites were quiet. The world was silent… as his lips ghosted over hers.

* * *

**I'd like to thank you all for your patience. I didn't receive one nasty PM or review telling me about how I hadn't updated. I know it's been a long time, but I've been going through a lot lately. A friend of mine has recently been diagnosed with bone cancer. It's terminal, but we're still hoping. I've been so busy with finishing school and that and everything I just haven't had time for writing, but I got back to it a few days ago and I've worked on this and it's been pretty therapeutic (though also a tad stressful… I just wanted to finish this damn chapter already.) **

**I don't know how I feel about this chapter. It may not seem that important but it really is, I promise! Please review, and be honest, criticism is okay! Thanks for reading. **

**EmmaoftheValley**


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